


You Be Stunning (Baby, I'll Be Stunned)

by mammothluv



Category: Swingtown
Genre: F/F, Female-Centric, Femslash, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/pseuds/mammothluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trina is Susan's port in the storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Be Stunning (Baby, I'll Be Stunned)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Black_Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Knight/gifts).



> Thank you Black_Knight for giving me a chance to write this pairing. I hope you enjoy this story. Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Swingtown belongs to the show's creators and CBS. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Thanks to PercyByssheShelley and sasha_feather for their beta work and to Leslie for the 70s music discussion.

**I. moving onward to a distant shore**  
  
When the sinking ship that is Susan’s marriage hits bottom, it does so spectacularly. She calls Laurie to ask her if she’ll stay with B.J. for the night and then she gets into the car and drives.  
  
The first hints of fall are in the air. Still, she rolls the windows down and turns up the radio, hopes the chill of the wind and Diana Ross on the radio will make her forget the break in Laurie’s voice when she agreed to take care of her little brother tonight. Laurie knows, of course she knows. She’s been looking at Susan and Bruce lately like she’s finally realized they’re something fragile.  
  
Once Susan makes it to the cabin, the solitude is a physical pressure bearing down on her. She decides to do something about it when she’s three quarters through a bottle of wine and Bonnie Raitt is on her fifth spin on the turntable.  
  
_“We have danced to a fateful rhyme. Moving down the same lonesome road. No I don't know why. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.”_  
  
There are only two people it doesn’t hurt to think about, whose presence won’t bring more weight -- of guilt or betrayal, hers or theirs. Tom’s voice is gentle and warm over the phone but Susan is grateful when he puts Trina on.  
  
“I’m at the cabin. Can you…” And maybe Susan sounds worse than she thinks she does or maybe Trina just understands something anyway because she’s answering before Susan can finish the question.  
  
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she assures her. “Do you need anything?”  
  
“Just you,” Susan replies. “And maybe more wine,” she adds, frowning as she pours the remainder of the bottle into her glass.  
  
Trina arrives at the door an hour later, wine in hand. Susan is all tears and apologies; Trina is firm, steady. Her hands are sure on Susan’s shoulders and then her arms are wrapping around her and pulling her in. Susan collapses against her and Trina lowers them both gently to the floor.  
  
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Her hands stroke Susan’s hair, her lips plant soft kisses on Susan’s forehead and, in between, the same words pour out over and over again. “I’ve got you… I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”  
  
She lays her head against Trina’s chest until her sobs turn to quiet tears, until she can breathe steadily again. Trina’s perfume smells of citrus and sandalwood. Somehow the ground beneath Susan feels a little more solid.  
  
  
**II. between each line of pain and glory**  
  
Two hours later they’re on the couch. Trina’s taken control of the record player and called a moratorium on sad songs. Now Gladys Knight is singing, _“I guess, you could say that I've been lucky.”_  
  
Susan has a glass of wine in hand and her head is resting on Trina’s lap. Trina’s sipping a soda. She and Tom have been talking about whether they’ll keep the pregnancy or not in the weeks since Labor Day. Susan’s pretty sure they’ve already decided, even if they don’t know that yet.  
  
In the past hours Susan has stumbled over words and feelings. For the most part Trina’s been quiet, running her hands up and down Susan’s arms and making the occasional soothing noise. Now Susan’s quiet too and exhausted because she loves them all -- Janet, Roger, Bruce -- and she doesn’t know how to make it feel not broken.  
  
“If you hadn’t moved here, had never met Tom and I, you’d still…” Trina begins and Susan’s heart skitters nervously at the ‘never’.  
  
“Don’t say it. I wouldn’t give you up for anything.” Susan feels a rush of relief at finally being able to name this thing she’s felt in her bones for weeks now.  
  
Trina’s looking at her with that smile that makes her eyes crinkle at the edges. It’s enough to remind Susan that not everything is broken beyond repair.  
  
“I was so unhappy before I met you. I don’t know that I knew it then, but now…”  
  
“You’ll forgive me for saying, but you look pretty miserable now,” Trina observes, punctuating the statement with a wry laugh.  
  
“I think I’d rather feel this alive and be miserable sometimes than go back to the person I was before I met you,” Susan says, reaching up to trail a fingertip along Trina’s chin. “Everything is changing and I’m scared this is going to change too,” Susan admits.  
  
“Susan, I will always be your friend,” Trina assures her.  
  
“It felt like more than that. I don’t know, you and Tom and me and Bruce…”  
  
“You’re still welcome in Tom’s and my bed if that’s what you want, with or without Bruce.”   
  
“No. I mean, yes. Maybe… I just…,” Susan’s hands flutter in the air as she speaks and she wishes, not for the first time, she were more like Trina, in touch with her feelings and at ease with voicing them.  
  
Trina trails a hand down her arm in a way that is clearly meant to be reassuring. But she’s just mentioned welcoming Susan into her bed without Bruce so Susan’s finding it more distracting than anything.  
  
“It’s not just the physical aspect. My feelings, they feel like so much more than friendship. That’s what I don’t want to lose. More than anything.” Susan takes Trina’s hand and clasps it in her own, running her fingertips along the smooth skin of Trina’s palm.  
  
“You won’t. We won’t. Susan, I care very deeply for you too, as does Tom. That won’t change, no matter what happens between you and Bruce. I won’t pretend we may not have some complicated things to work through but we will work through them.”  
  
Susan’s head is fuzzy with alcohol and gratitude when she sits up and clumsily swings one leg over Trina’s lap so she’s straddling her. Then she leans down and kisses Trina and she’s buzzing with something different all together.  
  
Trina kisses her back, softly, slowing Susan’s eager pace. And then after a moment Trina’s hands are on Susan’s shoulders pushing her back gently.  
  
“You need sleep,” she says.  
  
Susan’s answering pout has no effect on her. And soon Trina is standing up and pulling Susan along with her.  
  
“Go get ready for bed,” she orders, pointing in the direction of the bedroom. “I’ll be there in a minute.”  
  
By the time Susan has her teeth brushed, face washed, and pajamas on, Trina’s arriving in the bedroom with a full glass of water and two aspirin which Susan takes without complaint before climbing into bed.  
  
“Stay,” she says, reaching out a hand in Trina’s direction. She’s half-asleep already and she wants to hold onto this feeling of contentment and that means holding on to Trina. “Stay here and not in the guest room.”  
  
“I’m not a fan of sleeping alone anyway,” Trina answers and she leans down to place a soft kiss on Susan’s forehead.  
  
The cotton sheets are smooth and cool against Susan’s skin. When Trina crawls into bed minutes later, Susan curls into her warmth, head coming to rest on her chest.  
  
  
**III. can hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles**  
  
The next morning, Trina insists on returning to bed with their breakfast. Susan doesn’t have much of an appetite but Trina always puts the exact right amount of milk and sugar in Susan’s coffee and Susan slips it slowly now, letting it chase away the last vestiges of her hangover.  
  
The bed is a mess of tangled covers and pillows with Susan and Trina burrowed in the middle, both leaning against the headboard, Trina’s body pressed against Susan’s left side.  
  
“Does it ever bother you when you and Tom sleep with younger women?” Susan asks, words rushing out before her still foggy brain can catch up with her mouth.  
  
Trina raises an eyebrow in question.  
  
“I mean, does it ever make you feel self-conscious? Not that you have any reason to be,” Susan adds quickly. She allows her eyes to roam the length of Trina’s body and when she meets Trina’s eyes again, they’re darker, a smirk pulling at the edge of her lips.  
  
“We had a conversation about that not long before we met you, actually,” Trina says. “ We decided to stick with people close to our own age. Or, rather, I decided and Tom agreed.”  
  
“Oh,” Susan says softly. “It’s just, I don’t think it’s just the connection with Bruce and Melinda. And I know our marriage fell apart because of us, both of us, not her. But she’s young and smart and beautiful and I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t stop comparing myself to her.”  
  
“There’s no comparison,” Trina says, her voice suddenly commanding, all remnants of sleep gone.  
  
Trina grabs Susan’s hand and tugs her out of bed, grip tight, pulling her across the room and coming to a stop in front of the full length mirror that hangs on the closet door.  
  
She leaves Susan momentarily and Susan hears the the rustling of an album being pulled out of its dust jacket and then the scratch of a needle finding its home on the record and then Van Morrison is filtering through the room.  
  
_“I can hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles. And the heavens open every time she smiles.”_  
  
Susan shuffles from one foot to another until Trina stills her by pressing her body against Susan’s back and resting her chin on Susan’s right shoulder.  
  
“You’re gorgeous,” Trina says, breath warm against Susan’s ear.  
  
“And, you’re intelligent,” Trina reaches up to brush Susan’s hair behind her right ear.  
  
“You’re interesting. You make me laugh. And...” Her fingertips trail along Susan’s ear and then her nails scratch lightly along the side of Susan’s neck and around to her back. “You’re sexy as hell,” Trina finishes, voice just above a whisper and breath hot against Susan’s neck. Susan arches her back, pushing herself into Trina’s touch.  
  
Her eyes meet Trina’s in the mirror. Susan feels the charge; she always does. But this time there’s no one else there to defuse it -- no Tom, no Bruce. In this moment there’s no denying there’s something that’s just the two of them.  
  
Susan holds eye contact in the mirror, nods. Trina pulls Susan’s nightgown up, urging Susan’s arms up and over her head so she can pull it off. She tosses the garment to the side, kisses the curve where Susan’s neck meets her shoulder.  
  
“I love your skin,” she whispers. “These freckles, right here... “ Trina places her hand under Susan’s chin, directs Susan’s eyes to the mirror. When she’s sure Susan is watching, Trina’s tongue traces a pattern down her shoulder and Susan shudders, “form a perfect little heart.”  
  
“They do not,” Susan exhales.    
  
“Susan Miller, I will go find a marker and illustrate for you right now.” Trina argues, turning to take a determined step toward the hallway.  
  
“No,” Susan protests, genuine laughter escaping her mouth for the first time since she arrived at the cabin. She turns too and grabs Trina’s wrist to pull her back to her former position. “I believe you,” she assures her, leading the two of them back to the mirror.  
  
“Good. I’ll have you know I’m very knowledgeable when it comes to your topography,” Trina says, her hands mapping the ridges of Susan’s spine. Susan shivers and backs into the touch.  
  
She remembers a night not too long ago when it was Tom’s mouth on her, but she was watching Trina then too -- Trina tracing patterns of freckles on her thigh, fingers just inches from where Susan had desperately wanted them at the time. There was something on Trina’s face then that Susan hadn’t been willing to believe was awe but Trina is reverent now, her eyes serious when they meet Susan’s again in the mirror.  
  
And maybe it’s needy but Trina’s never hesitated to give to Susan so she asks the question she most wants to.  
  
“What else?”  
  
Trina doesn’t speak at first. She pushes Susan forward, hips and hands urging her toward the mirror and then hands trailing up her arms and arranging them to rest against the cool glass of the mirror.  
  
Susan’s first instinct is to slam her eyes shut but then Trina’s hands are reaching around her, trailing over her breasts, and Susan needs to watch -- needs to see Trina roll her nipple between two fingers as she feels the sensation and the resulting heat between her thighs.  
  
“I love,” Trina begins, “the curve of your breasts, watching your nipples get hard for me, sometimes before I or anyone else has touched you.” She punctuates the last statement with a pinch to both nipples.  
  
Susan whimpers. Trina smiles, her teeth momentarily grazing her bottom lip.  
  
“I love,” Trina continues, “that you know,” her fingers increase their pressure, Susan clasps her thighs together, “what you want.”  
  
The words snap Susan back to reality. “I don’t know if I do anymore. I thought I did.”  
  
“Of course you do,” Trina encourages. “Keep it simple. What do you want right now?”  
  
And Susan thinks it’s not entirely fair that Trina is drawing her hands down Susan’s abdomen as she asks, not entirely reasonable to think her answer could be anything but what she says next.  
  
“You.”  
  
“How do you want me? I’ll do anything you want,” Trina promises, rubbing her hand against the lace of Susan’s panties, a delicious friction that is so close to too much and not enough all at the same time, “as long as you keep watching.”  
  
Susan couldn’t tear her eyes from the mirror now if she tried. It’s mesmerizing, watching Trina’s hands on her. She bucks into Trina’s touch.  
  
“I want you to touch me.”  
  
“I am touching you,” Trina teases.    
  
“I want you to stop flirting and fuck me.” Susan means to sound commanding, but the words come out more like a plea.  
  
“That’s my girl,” Trina praises.  
  
And then Trina is down on her knees in front of Susan, grasping at Susan’s panties and pulling them down to her ankles. And then Susan’s stepping out of them and wondering how she’s still standing upright because watching them like this, seeing the whole picture in the mirror, is intoxicating.  
  
“Is this okay?” Trina asks.  
  
Trina’s tongue is running teasingly along the underside of Susan’s knee as her hands run up Susan’s legs to grip her hips, fingers digging in -- lightly at first and then not -- and Susan doesn’t even know how Trina can ask that question because Susan’s hips are already thrusting toward her, legs parting in invitation.  
  
“I’m more than okay,” Susan manages. And she’s rewarded with Trina’s mouth traveling higher, a soft kiss against her mid thigh and Trina’s hands moving off her hips, tracing up her abdomen and then down again.  
  
Somehow in the heat of Trina’s mouth against her bare skin, Susan manages to find a moment of reason. Leaning up on her elbows to look down at Trina she asks, “What about you? Is this okay? I mean with you and Tom?”  
  
Trina grins up at her, chin resting against Susan’s thigh. Susan almost stops caring about the answer to the question.  
  
“Tom and I are solid. We’ve talked about this. Nothing to worry about.”  
  
“Oh good,” Susan replies. “Because I don’t want to stop.”  
  
Trina laughs and Susan can feel the vibration against the skin of her thigh; she’s so sensitive she can feel it in her core, can feel herself growing wetter in response.  
  
“Wait? You two talked about this? Did you come up here to seduce me?” Susan means to keep the question light but her voice is thick with desire.  
  
But Trina’s reply is serious. “I came here because I was worried about you. I’m not sorry this happened but it wasn’t the plan. Tom and I talked about it a few weeks ago -- that I might like to try being with just you alone sometime.”  
  
“Oh,” Susan exhales, her heart jumping a little, breath catching in her throat.  
  
“You seem surprised. You have to know I’m attracted to you.”  
  
“I knew how I felt about you. And I always hoped… I just wasn’t sure. I thought… I guess maybe I worried it was wishful thinking on my part.”  
  
“Well I’m happy to prove you wrong,” Trina offers playfully, offering a nip at Susan’s inner thigh as punctuation.  
  
“Please do,” Susan encourages.  
  
Trina’s fingers are fierce, tight on Susan’s hips, pulling her forward. Her teeth graze Susan’s thigh, eliciting a gasp from Susan. Then her tongue is flicking, teasingly, exactly where Susan wants and needs her.  
  
And then she pauses. Susan is unable to stop the whimper that escaped her at the loss of contact. She looks down to find Trina gazing up at her, a serious look in her eyes.  
  
“Keeping watching yourself,” Trina reminds her. “I want you to see yourself the way I see you.”  
  
Susan nods. She’d agree to about anything right now, looking down at rich brown eyes, at Trina on her knees below her, hair still mussed from sleep.  
  
So Susan turns her focus back to the mirror and Trina’s tongue makes circles around her clit, coaxing a moan from Susan’s mouth. Susan watches the flush rising up her chest as Trina sucks her clit into her mouth.  
  
Her heart is heavy and fast. She needs to be touching Trina, so she leaves one hand against the mirror to support herself, and reaches the other down to stroke Trina’s hair.  
  
Susan’s thinking she absolutely means what she said last night. She wouldn’t give Trina up for anything.  
  
But then Trina’s fingers are inside her and Susan’s rocking against them and Susan can’t really think anything except _‘more.’_  
  
In the mirror she sees her lips part as she tries to catch her breath. Her body rolls with the movement of Trina’s fingers and tongue, and then Trina adds another finger and Susan feels deliciously full.  
  
The pressure is building and building as Trina’s tongue continues its pattern on her clit and Trina’s fingers thrust and then curl inside her. And again. And again.  
  
And Susan desperately wants to tumble over the edge and simultaneously wants this moment of almost to stretch into the infinity it deserves.  
  
As if she knows, Trina slows her movements. Susan rocks with her, slowly, savoring the way every nerve feels alive, the way her head buzzes with promise. Driven closer to the brink at the sight of Trina’s head between her thighs in the mirror.  
  
Then Trina picks up her speed again and Susan thrusts against her fingers and tongue until she finds release, clenching around Trina’s fingers as Trina continues to stroke inside her.  
  
As she’s coming down, her eyes focus on her reflection and she thinks maybe she sees it, what Trina wanted her to see.  
  
Then she’s sinking down to the floor, limbs tangling with Trina, tasting herself on Trina’s lips in a kiss full of promise.  
  
  
**IV. for the love of you**  
  
“You have to let me take your picture sometime,” Trina demands, a half hour later.  
  
Arms wrapped around each other, they’re slowly twirling around the bedroom, the radio playing softly in the background.  
  
_“Well, I wanna be living, for the love of you.... All that I'm giving, is for the love of you….”_  
  
Susan tucks her head into the curve of Trina’s neck, wills this moment to last forever and tomorrow with its broken hearts and difficult choices to stay somewhere around the corner out of reach.  
  
“You’ve taken my picture before,” Susan reminds her. Her finger twirls lazily in Trina’s hair as she speaks.  
  
“I want to take your picture like this,” Trina clarifies, trailing a finger down Susan’s breast and circling a nipple until it hardens.    
  
Susan edges Trina backward until her knees hit the bed and she tumbles down, pulling Susan with her. She insinuates her knee between Trina’s thighs. Trina clasps her legs tight against Susan’s knee to increase the pressure and Susan savors the slick feel of Trina against her thigh.  
  
“How’s Tom with the camera?” Susan asks.  
  
“Fair enough,” Trina replies. “Why do you ask?” She’s rocking steadily against Susan’s knee now and Susan leans in to run her tongue along lines of Trina’s clavicle.  
  
“I want pictures of you and I together,” Susan replies.  
  
“Perfect,” Trina agrees. A gasp escapes her lips as Susan reaches a hand down between them, stroking, and Susan decides plans can wait. Right now, all she needs is their two bodies and the rush of heat between them. 

**Author's Note:**

> The songs referenced in the fic are I. "I Gave My Love a Candle" by Bonnie Raitt, II. "Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me" by Gladys Knight, III. "Crazy Love" by Van Morrison, and IV. "For the Love of You" by the Isley Brothers. The title of the story is my one concession to modern music and comes from "Kill The Lights" by Matt Nathanson, a song which will forever and always be on my Trina/Susan soundtrack.


End file.
